Unexpected Connections

Olivia Middleton's POV

I finish my training after a month, and soon, we all head back to our homes for the rest of the summer—everyone except Rafael. I've grown to really like that kid. He's always kind to me, even when I snap at him for no reason. There's something about his quiet patience that gets under my skin in the best way.

My parents have to leave town again, so I owl Fred and George, asking if I can stay with them for a few days. They say yes, and their mum agrees, even though we've never met before. The moment I arrive at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley pulls me into this warm, motherly hug that makes my eyes sting a little. It's been so long since anything felt like home—she manages it in five seconds flat.

A few days later, I'm at Diagon Alley picking up books before second year, when I run into Hermione and her parents. They're exactly what I expected—bright and kind, just like her. We're waiting inside Flourish and Blotts for our book lists when I see him. Draco Malfoy.

The second our eyes meet, my stomach does this weird flip. I can't explain it. And then I blush—great. Of course he notices. He's taller than I remember. If I stood next to him now, I'd probably reach his shoulder. He's grown.

Everyone's crowded around some wizard named Gilderoy Lockhart. Apparently, people are obsessed with him—mostly for his looks. Personally, I don't see the appeal. He just seems like a man full of himself, holding a book titled Magical Me like it's the answer to all life's problems.

We're getting ready to leave when Malfoy suddenly appears from the staircase, ripping a page out of some book. I'm standing with Fred and George, laughing about something, when he makes a beeline for Harry.

"I'll bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter? Famous Harry Potter. Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page," he sneers, venom in every word. Then he glances at me—and just like that, his expression shifts. He looks calm. Collected. Like he's trying not to let something show.

"Leave him alone," Ginny snaps, stepping up beside Harry. "Oh, look. Potter's got a new girlfriend. Two in two years," Draco says, voice thick with sarcasm. His eyes flick to me again—and then whack—a cane strikes his shoulder.

I flinch. Draco does too.

It's Lucius Malfoy.

He doesn't even look at his son when he pushes him aside. Draco stumbles, ending up near Ginny. I instinctively move to her side, just in case. I'm not sure if he'd actually hurt her, but I'm not taking chances. Hermione quickly joins me, standing firm.

I'm holding a bag full of books when I swear—I swear—I feel Draco's fingers brush against it. But before I can check, Lucius turns to me. "Miss Middleton, I presume," he says smoothly. He looks at Draco, who gives a subtle nod.

"Draco has told his mother all about you. Fighting trolls, your... injury. But unfortunately—a Muggle," he finishes, dripping with disdain.

My blood boils. I open my mouth, ready to say something, but Draco—gods help me—Draco gently grabs my wrist, like a silent plea to stay quiet. And it works. I don't know how, but it does. The anger drains right out of me. All I'm left with is this weird sense of calm. Of protection.

He keeps his hand hidden, low and out of sight. No one notices.

Maybe he's scared of what his father might do—if I lost control, if I lashed out. Maybe he's seen too much of Lucius's anger to risk anyone else getting caught in it. I'm not sure. But I feel it—that quiet desperation. He doesn't want me hurt.

Then, thankfully, Mr. Weasley steps between them. He starts talking to Lucius calmly, diplomatically, though there's steel under his words. He tells us to wait outside, trying to keep things as normal as possible for the kids watching all this unfold.

But just before we can leave, Lucius ends the conversation with a cold, "See you at work."

Draco mirrors him. Steps in front of Harry and says, "See you at school." Then he turns to me, holds my gaze for a beat, and gives a small nod before walking away.

We all arrive at school, but Harry and Ron are nowhere to be found—neither on the platform nor the train. We figure they must have gotten lost or were behind us, so we let it go.

Before dinner, I decide to stop by Professor Snape's office in the dungeons. The hallways are dark and cold, and I really don't like the idea of being down here alone. But I have to do this. I have to know the truth.

"Looks like someone lost their way," a familiar voice says from behind me. I turn around to find Malfoy standing there, his infamous smirk plastered on his face. "I didn't lose my way," I reply, keeping my voice calm. "I wanted to see Professor Snape before dinner."

"Snape?" Draco raises an eyebrow. "Why in the world would you have to see Professor Snape?"

"Nothing that concerns you, Draco," I answer, keeping my tone cool. "Malfoy, how many times do I have to tell you? It's Middleton," I snap back, a little irritated. Just as Draco opens his mouth to retort, Professor Snape appears, his black robes billowing around him. "Now, what is happening here?" he asks, looking between us.

"I was coming to see you, Professor. I need to talk to you about something," I explain, locking eyes with Snape. "Alright then, follow me, Miss Middleton," he says in his usual cold tone. "And Mr. Malfoy, I believe the feast is about to begin," he adds dismissively. With that, I follow Snape down the dark corridor, Draco trailing behind.

When we reach Snape's office, he gestures to a chair in front of his desk. "Now, what is so important, Miss Middleton, that you're missing the feast?" he asks, his voice cool.

I sit down, feeling the weight of my questions pressing down on me. "Sir, I had a few questions about my stay here over the summer," I begin, not giving him a chance to stop me. "Why do I have so many powers and abilities? I mean, I'm a Muggle-born, and no other witch or wizard in my time has powers like these. Even purebloods or half-bloods don't have them. So why am I more than just a witch? Why am I... an esprit de vie?"

Snape remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. "I'm sorry, Miss Middleton. I don't know what to tell you. And even if I did, it wouldn't be my place to tell you," he replies, his cold tone shutting down my questions. I can tell there's something he's not telling me.

Before I can respond, the door to Snape's office opens. Mr. Filch drags in Harry and Ron, both of them covered in mud. Ron's wand is broken in half. "Harry? Ron?" I gasp in shock.

"Liv?" they say in unison, their voices filled with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"You were seen by no less than seven Muggles," Snape says, his voice dripping with fury. "Do you have any idea how serious this is? You've risked the exposure of our world. Not to mention the damage you caused to a Whomping Willow that's been on these grounds longer than you've been alive."

"Honestly, Professor Snape, I think the tree did more damage to us," Ron says sarcastically, wincing as he clutches his broken wand. "Silence!" Snape snaps, his anger boiling over. He stands up, marching toward Harry and Ron. "I assure you, if you were in Slytherin and your fate rested with me, both of you would be on the train home tonight. As it is—"

"They are not," a voice interrupts. It's Professor Dumbledore, followed closely by Professor McGonagall. "Miss Middleton, you are excused," Professor McGonagall says, her tone stern but not unkind. "Please wait for your friends in The Great Hall and proceed to dinner."

I nod, standing up and heading for the door. I dread walking through the dungeons alone, but I don't have much of a choice. The dark stone walls make me shiver. "Olivia," a familiar voice calls out from behind me.

I turn and see Chris standing there, a grin on his face. Without thinking, I run toward him, wrapping my arms around him. He twirls me around, lifting me off the ground, and I laugh—feeling the tension melt away in his embrace. Chris is the big brother I never had, and over the summer, I've grown to love him like family.

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Chris. I missed you so much," I say, my voice full of relief. "Same here, darling. What are you doing in the dungeons?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. "I was in Snape's office. I wanted to ask him something," I admit, not hiding the truth.

"Alright then, the feast is starting soon. Let's go," he says, taking my hand. We both start running toward The Great Hall, laughing together.

We soon arrive at the entrance to The Great Hall, and I spot Cat and Jo. They greet me with warm hugs, and then I see Rafael. He's walking down the stairs, his eyes on the ground, about to pass the gate where I'm standing. Without thinking, I rush over and engulf him in a hug. He's momentarily taken aback, but then he relaxes, realizing it's me. He gently places a kiss on top of my head, his height making it easy for him to reach. I can only manage to hug him around his chest.

We all head into the hall and make our way to our respective tables. I sit beside Hermione, with Fred settling between her and me, on my right, while George sits to my left. "What was that?" Fred asks, his voice teasing. "With that cute Ravenclaw boy?" George finishes, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"What? Nothing," I say quickly. It wasn't anything serious—well, I like him, but not like that. We had gotten close over the summer and exchanged a lot of owls, but that's it. "Oh, come on, love," George teases, nudging me with his elbow.

"He's staring at you," Fred adds, nudging me from the other side.

I look up from my plate, and sure enough, Rafael is staring at me. As soon as our eyes meet, his cheeks flush red and he smiles. I can't help but smile back. "You guys, I'm almost 13. Come on. And you two are my best friends, if there's anything—which there isn't—I'll tell you first," I tell them, digging into my food.

"Hey!" Hermione and Ginny say in unison, clearly not happy with the mention of the twins as my "best friends."

"Oh, quit it, guys!" I laugh, knowing the girls are just kidding.

Soon, Harry and Ron join us, talking about how the way to Platform 9 ¾ had closed, and how someone doesn't want Harry at Hogwarts this year. The sorting of the first years has ended, and after dinner, we all head to our respective dorms.

The next day, we have Herbology with Professor Sprout. We're headed to Greenhouse 3 to learn about Mandrakes. When she asks if anyone knows about them, both Hermione and I raise our hands.

"Miss Middleton, not you," Professor Sprout says with a knowing smile, as if she already knows why I know about Mandrakes. "Yes, Miss Granger," she says, nodding at Hermione to continue.

Hermione begins explaining, earning Gryffindor 10 points. She's arranged earmuffs for all of us, and Professor Sprout reminds us to make sure they're properly covering our ears. Then, she points at me.

"Miss Middleton, can you show us how to plant the Mandrake?"

"Um, yes, Professor," I say shyly, standing directly across from Malfoy. "Now, I want to remind everyone to check that the earmuffs are securely on and covering your ears. Watch closely. Grasp your Mandrake firmly and pull it sharply out of the pot," I instruct.

As soon as I pull the Mandrake, its cry fills the room. Neville faints, and I can't help but laugh a little. It's always Neville who ends up having the most... unfortunate things happen to him. I gently rub my index finger on the top of the Mandrake's root, and to my surprise, it calms down almost immediately, stopping its cries. I've read in my Herbology book that only a few witches or wizards can do this, and I've always wanted to try it.

Everyone stares in shock as I handle the Mandrake.

"Got it? Now, quickly dunk it into the other pot and sprinkle a little soil to keep it warm. That'll stop it from crying," I say, trying to explain quickly before anyone can ask me how I did it.

"Very well explained and executed, Miss Middleton," Professor Sprout says proudly. "Another 20 points for Gryffindor!" She winks at me, clearly pleased with what she taught me over the summer.

"Right, plenty of pots to go around. Do what Olivia just showed you," she adds, moving around to help the other students.

Everyone follows my lead, pulling out their Mandrakes and listening to their cries fill the room. I glance over at Malfoy to see how he handles his Mandrake. To my surprise, he tries to do the same thing I did—he tries to calm it. But instead, the Mandrake bites his finger. Malfoy's face turns red with fury, and I can't help but giggle.

He looks up at me, furrows his brows, but then quickly switches to a warm smile.